Too Smart for Their Own Good
by D4RKL0RDR3V4N
Summary: When Sirius dies, instructions from James Potter come into effect, providing Harry with valuable resources for the coming fight. James Potter may be dead but that won't stop him from doing all he can to protect his son...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Yay, writing! New story! Again! Those who know my stoories will know by now that unless something is changed dramatically from canon, I won't write it out so if you need more detail, go read the source material and mix it in.**

 **#4 Privet Drive, Surrey**

Harry Potter was angry.

He had many reasons to be angry. For one, he was once again forced to spend the summer with his aunt, uncle and cousin, all of whom loathed Harry. For another, his godfather, Sirius Black, had been murdered by his own cousin a month ago.

The death of his godfather in particular was causing him a great deal of anger. Anger at Albus Dumbledore, for not warning Harry that false visions were a possibility. Anger at Voldemort, for starting the war and tricking Harry into going to the Department of Mysteries. Anger at Bellatrix Lestrange, who had landed the fatal spell.

As he lay on his bed in the evening, wondering what was going on in the War outside, he failed to notice the large owl flying toward his window. Indeed, he was so unaware of it that even the owl landing on his windowsill failed to alert him to its presence. Only after the owl knocked its beak against the window frame did he notice it and its letter.

Harry got up off his bed and retrieved a few owl treats for the owl before relieving it of its burden. Its job done, the large owl turned and swooped out of the room and into the dusk. Looking at the letter, Harry noticed the Gringotts seal on the back. On the front, there was only the address.

 _Lord-Apparent H. J. Potter_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging_

 _Surrey_

 _England_

Confused, Harry broke the seal on the back of the envelope and pulled out the letter.

 _Lord-Apparent H. J. Potter,_

 _We are writing to inform you that, following the death of your godfather, Lord S. O. Black, last month (18 June 1996), certain instructions of your father's have come into effect._

 _Please visit the nearest Gringotts branch at the earliest opportunity. If necessary, this letter will act as a portkey to transport you to our London branch. The activation phrase is "_ _Mors non facit nos supplico_ _"._

 _Signed,_

 _Crackfang_

 _Head of Gringotts UK_

Harry sat back, confusion warring with curiosity on his face. What instructions had his father left? Why were they only coming into effect now? Harry was very confused. With some hesitation, he reread the activation phrase before standing and drawing his wand.

"Mors non facit nos supplico," Harry said before feeling the familiar hook behind his navel and disappearing from his bedroom.

 **Gringotts London Branch**

Harry appeared in a spacious, albeit near empty, room with a high ceiling. By the only door sat a desk manned by a goblin while two armed goblins flanked the door. The goblin behind the desk waved Harry over.

"Letter," the goblin demanded when Harry reached him.

The teen handed the letter to the small being, who examined it for a few moments before handing it back.

"Wait outside, someone will take you to an appropriate office shortly," the goblin instructed.

Stepping out of the door, Harry found himself in a typical waiting room with a number of seats arranged around the room. Before he had time to sit down, a goblin entered from the opposite door and told Harry to follow him. Harry did so, following the goblin past what felt like hundreds of doors before they stopped before one. The goblin knocked once before opening the door and waving Harry in.

The office Harry found himself in was not particularly impressive. It was not overly large but neither was it small or cramped. A large but simple fireplace dominated most of the left wall while its opposite was completely bare. Directly opposite the door hung a pair of swords and a shield and below them sat a smartly dressed goblin behind a simple desk that was full of papers and folders but managed not to look messy.

"Ah, Lord-Apparent Potter, welcome. I am Senior Manager Viperclaw. Please take a seat, we have a few things to discuss," the goblin sat behind the desk said.

Harry took the seat across from the goblin but before he could say anything, Viperclaw resumed speaking, occasionally glancing at a file before him.

"A few weeks before his death, Lord J. C. Potter came to us with some of the oddest instructions anyone has ever given us. He opened two vaults, one in our name and one in his. In ours, he placed a list of instructions and the key to his own vault. In his own, he placed a single trunk. Since he leased each vault at triple the standard fee, we have endeavoured to follow his instructions. As such, with the passing of Lord S. O. Black, the key to Lord J. C. Potter's vault is available to you and he instructs that you are to be taken to the vault immediately," Viperclaw explained before rising from his seat.

He led Harry past hundreds more doors before they reached the carts to the vaults. Another goblin met them there and handed Viperclaw a key before leaving again. After a short cart ride, they stopped outside a vault Viperclaw called Vault 822. True to his word, when he unlocked it, there was only a key and a piece of parchment inside. Viperclaw took both, folding the parchment and handing it to Harry while taking the key himself. He locked the vault again before walking a little further and unlocking the next vault, which he referred to as Vault 821. Again, Viperclaw proved honest as the only thing sitting in the vault was a single trunk.

Once they returned to the surface, Viperclaw led Harry back to the room he had first arrived in and told him that the letter would return him to his prior location before wishing him all the best and leaving. It was only as Harry felt the portkey activate that he realised that he hadn't had any opportunity to ask any of his questions.

 **#4 Privet Drive, Surrey**

The next morning, Harry sat on the ground next to the truck and began to examine it. After almost an hour, he had still found nothing. No keyholes, no hinges, no sign it opened except the seam of the lid. As he pulled himself upright, his finger caught on a loose nail on his desk, drawing blood. As he pulled away, a few drops landed on the top of the trunk.

Harry's gasp of pain turned into a gasp of shock as the trunk flashed before a set of keys and a note appeared on the trunk. Pain forgotten, Harry picked up the note and began to read the smooth, tidy lines.

 _Harry,_

 _This is my old trunk. As far as anyone else knows, my work on the Marauders Map and the Animagus transformation are my finest. They are wrong. My parents gave me this trunk when I went to Hogwarts and over the years I've made some adjustments._

 _The trunk now contains twelve compartments as opposed to one and most of them have a unique purpose. Each key is labeled with a number, corresponding to a compartment and (other than the first one) cannot be found or used by anyone other than me and you. To unlock, simply touch the appropriate key to the top of the trunk. The order is as follows:_

 _1) is unchanged; this is designed to fool others into believing that this is a normal trunk._

 _2 - 5) are enlarged; you can store almost anything in these compartments without anyone being able to find it._

 _6) is a fully functional potions lab._

 _7) contains a living room._

 _8) is a fully equipped kitchen; I even managed to incorporate muggle equipment._

 _9 & 10) are bedrooms; 9 is the "master" bedroom and 10 is something akin to a guest room._

 _11) is a library; at the time of writing, I would estimate it rivals the Hogwarts library although you may want to update it._

 _12) is a study and training room; the training room was the hardest but it can provide almost any situation you can think up and won't actually harm you (even if it will hurt)._

 _Unfortunately, you can only have one compartment in use at a time. You cannot have someone in one compartment and then open another (I tested this with Sirius before obliviating him). The trunk is also immovable by anyone other than me or you (again, I tested this with Sirius) and no matter what you put in it, it will never get heavier._

 _On the desk in the study, there are a set of books. These are my journals (which are labeled by year) and notes dating back to before my first year at Hogwarts. In particular, my notes may be of interest to you as they contain information and advice on, among other things, what it means to be a Potter, the animagus transformation as well as rare spells, some of which I invented, some I found in rare texts and some I rediscovered from ancient texts. Note that to anyone other than me or you these books will appear blank._

 _The only exception is the red book. If another person so much as tries to pick it up, it will cause severe burns and will also emulate the effects of the dementors (to a point). This contains some of my most dangerous research and notes. Under no circumstances should the information in that book fall into the wrong hands. You must take great care when reading that book or using the information contained within._

 _On a lighter note, the desk in the study also holds a copy of the Marauder's Map. However, I have added a few extra features as well as improving the security on it. It will be explained in one of the later journals._

 _Where necessary, I've included a set of instructions in the trunk. There is also a portrait of me in the study. To activate it, simply tap it with your wand and say:_ _Mors non facit nos supplico_ _. This roughly translates to "Death shall not make us kneel" and has been the motto of the Potter family since before Hogwarts was founded._

 _If you are reading this, I am sorry I couldn't be there to show you this in person but I am content in the knowledge that it will come into your possession._

 _Know that you will always be my son and that I will always be proud of you._

 _James Charlus Potter_

 _Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter_

 _Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Ravenclaw_

Harry stared at the letter in his hands in shock, mentally going over all he had learned from this letter alone. Clearly, everyone who had described his father as a good wizard had seriously underestimated him.

The dark haired teen set the letter aside and picked up the keys. They were small and silver and appeared to be nearly identical to each other besides the small number engraved on each.

Deciding to get started on the trunk, Harry selected key number 12 and pressed it to the lid of the trunk. With a quiet click, the lid of the truck opened a little, allowing Harry to hook his fingers under it and lift it open. With a grin, Harry stepped into the trunk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: The beginning of the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson is copied directly from the book. Any text within square brackets [ ] belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

 **Hogwarts Express, London**

It had been just over three weeks since Harry had been in the trunk. The portrait of his father in the study had told him not to trust anyone with the truth of what the trunk could do, not even his closest friends, so his arrival at the Burrow had halted his use of the trunk. James had not, however, warned him off reading his notes and journals, much to the annoyance of the Weasleys.

As Harry swung his trunk onto the rack, he pulled out one of his father's notebooks and continued where he'd left off. With Ron and Hermione both needing to visit the prefect compartment and Ginny off to meet with some of her other friends, Harry was temporarily left Luna and Neville arrived, Harry set the book aside while they discussed their Luna pulled out a copy of the Quibbler, Neville and Harry both pulled out a book and the trio began to read in comfortable silence.

When Ron and Hermione arrived at the compartment, Harry and Neville put their books to the side and chatted with the other two. After a while, Hermione reached down and picked up James' notes.

"What's this, Harry? It doesn't look like a proper book," Hermione asked.

"It's not. Those are my dad's notes. There's some really interesting stuff in there," Harry answered.

Excited by the prospect of more knowledge, Hermione opened the book before a look of confusion appeared on her face.

"Er, Harry, this is blank…"

"To you, yes. Dad charmed his notes and journals so that only me and him could read them. To anyone else, they're blank," Harry explained.

Hermione was visibly disappointed but Neville perked up.

"I've seen that sort of Magic before. The Longbottom Family Grimoire has similar magic but that's really complicated. It would have been hard enough tying it to a family but to just two people in that family? That's really impressive!" Neville exclaimed.

"Yeah, my dad included it in his notes about what he did to these books and how. I didn't really understand much of it but what I did understand was fascinating. It's based on a series of runes, charms and even tranfigurations, some of which my dad had to practically invent himself. Although he mentions that he did study the Potter Family Grimoire for inspiration and a starting point," Harry told the others.

"Do you think you could show me his notes on it?" Hermione asked, excited enough to forget the problem.

"They're in one of the notebooks, so…" Harry pointed out.

It took a moment for Hermione to realise the significance of this before blushing at having forgotten something so obvious. The group burst into laughter at her mistake and the train ride passed rather quickly.

 **Hogwarts**

After their free period, Harry and Ron reluctantly made their way to their first class of the term; Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape. **[** Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.

"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously when Harry and Ron joined her. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Shame," yawned Ron.

"You wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face

the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless

back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest

attention."

His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on

Harry's than anyone else's.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

You believe... like you haven't watched them all come and go, hoping you'd be next, thought Harry scathingly.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their

necks to keep him in view.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy,

another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice?

"Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the

arts you seek to undo. These pictures" - he indicated a few of them as he swept past - "give a fair

representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" - he

waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony - "feel the Dementor's Kiss" - a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall - "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" - a bloody mass upon ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Parvati Patil in a high pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he

using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.

"... you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making

sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well - Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Hermione, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively (over in the corner, Malfoy sniggered), "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some" - his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry once more - "lack."

Harry knew Snape was thinking of their disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year. He refused to drop his gaze, but glowered at Snape until Snape looked away.

"You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

Although Snape did not know it, Harry had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word, a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Gryffindor from any reasonable teacher, thought Harry bitterly, but which Snape ignored. He swept between them as they practiced, looking just as much like an overgrown bat as ever, lingering to watch Harry and Ron struggling with the task.

Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. Harry had his wand raised, waiting on tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to come.

"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a while. "Here — let me show you —"

He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively; **]** one of the shields from his father's notes flashed through his mind and with a flick of his wand, Snape's spell rebounded and would have hit Snape had he not ducked in time.

"It would appear that Potter might actually have earned that O rather than having it given to him like everything else. Or perhaps dumb luck is simply making him look better."

Snape turned to resume his prowling and noticed that the entire class was watching his interaction with Harry.

"What are you dunderheads gawking at? I have not told you to stop," Snape sneered.

Everyone hurried to resume trying silent casting. With a flick of his wrist, Harry sent a jinx of his father's design at Ron, which he failed to shield against, resulting in his right knee becoming unbearably itchy. Harry resisted the urge to laugh; his father's notes had simply described it as a non-violent distraction and his portrait had refused to elaborate.

"What the hell is Dumbledore thinking, letting Snape teach Defence? I mean did you hear him? He practically worships the Dark Arts. All that 'unfixed, indestructible' stuff," Ron fumed.

"Actually, I thought he sounded like you, Harry," said Hermione.

"How do you mean?" Harry asked.

" **[** When you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn't that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking? **]** "

"Yeah, it is. While Snape's tone was inappropriate, his meaning wasn't. My dad, although he detested most who used them, had a great deal of respect for the Dark Arts and those who mastered it," Harry agreed.

"Your dad respected You-Know-Who?" Ron exclaimed.

"No! He respected those who _mastered_ the Dark Arts, not those who got mastered _by_ the Dark Arts. Voldemort allowed his lust for power and immortality to control him. According to my dad, to master the Dark Arts you need to be able to use them but not be controlled by them."

Ron looked mollified at Harry's explanation.

"So was your dad a master?" Hermione asked.

"No, he only rarely used the Dark Arts. He studied them a lot, in part so that he knew what he was facing but mainly so that he had them in case of an emergency. According to him, sometimes the best way to fight the Dark Arts is with the Dark Arts," Harry explained.

 **[** "Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment.

"For you," panted Sloper. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend —"

But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Albus Dumbledore_

 _P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops._

"He enjoys Acid Pops?" said Ron, who had read the message over Harry's shoulder and was looking perplexed.

"It's the password to get past the gargoyle outside his study," said Harry in a low voice. **]**

He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach

Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned to the common room where they grudgingly started Snape's homework. This turned out to be so complex that they still had not finished when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period (though she considerably speeded up the process). They had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions and they beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's.


End file.
